


Tiger by the Tail

by HawkSong



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), Friends With Benefits, Negotiations, Showers, Thighs, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29747460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkSong/pseuds/HawkSong
Summary: Hilda has been friends with Y'shtola for a good long while - friends and more than friends.Can she convince an old friend to help out a new one?
Relationships: Hilda Ware/Y'shtola Ruhl
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5
Collections: Bookclub Valentione's Fic Exchange 2021





	Tiger by the Tail

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juntei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juntei/gifts).



> A note, that this references fics I have written elsewhere and for other purposes: specifically links in with my fill for "Wish" (from FFXIV Write 2020), and makes reference to "Temporary Insanity," "Green Magic," and chapter 72 of my first long fic, "Aren't You Cold?"  
> And because that's an awful lot, there's a note at the end for those who might not want to fool with all that!

Spring in Ishgard was a real bitch sometimes.

Hilda loved her home, but she wasn't blind to its faults and its problems...and right now one of the biggest problems was the remaining holes in the streets of the Brume. In winter the potholes and scarred places would fill up with snow and ice – could even be filled with ice a-purpose and then covered with grit, sand, salt, whatever they had to hand to help solve the traction issues that resulted. Come summer, they could work on patching those holes properly, and one of the geniuses over at the Manufactory had finally found a fast curing concrete that would withstand the constant temperature changes and harsh cold winters...so the holes would now stay patched.

But in the spring, the weather became their bitterest enemy, because spring was the season of thunderstorms. Storms that were unpredictable, violent, and dumped buckets and buckets of rain on the city. Roofs leaked, mud was everywhere, and worst of all, the damn potholes stood a better than even chance of becoming sinkholes.

Just as this one had done. It was a real monster, too, breaking a wagon-bird's leg and nearly swallowing the wagon into the bargain. At least this time, she had bodies enough to do some good.

“Haul, damn your eyes! _Pull!_ _ **Pull!**_ ”

Finally, with a disgusting sucking noise, the wagon's back wheels came free of the mud, and the dozen men and women hauling on the thing staggered forward several paces, dragging it to solid ground. Hilda let out a whoop, and then waved her arm at the men who'd been patiently waiting with sand bags.

To the seventh hell with filling a sinkhole big enough to swallow a wagon, there was no damn point in trying. But they could, and did, lay sand bags around the thing, blocking it off, preventing anyone else from falling into it.

She took herself over to where the carter stood, arm in a sling. His woman was beside him, looking bedraggled not just from the rain that soaked everyone but from weeping. Then again, she'd just watched their sole wagon-bird hauled off – the poor damn thing had screamed until they'd put it out of its misery. Not the easiest thing for anyone involved.

“All right,” she said to the pair of them. “Come with me and we'll take down the report – ”

“What are you going to do with our wagon?” the wife demanded.

“It'll get inspected, and repairs made, so long as it ain't a cracked axle or something our boys can't fix easy,” Hilda said patiently, though she'd answered the question three times already. “And the report will reflect the loss of your animal too, so that'll be sorted, just as quick as we can manage. Shouldn't be too long a wait, this early in the season.”

A sniffle, and a sidelong glance, but the woman didn't argue. The carter himself just nodded, looking tired and cold, and Hilda beckoned to them both to follow her.

 _The worst thing about me job_ , she reflected as they squelched along the street towards the Watch House, _is the fuckin' paperwork_. But as she passed the stricken wagon, she half smiled. The _best_ part was that she could actually make a difference in the lives of her people. She still thought of the Brume as home, as her folks – though she technically served all of Ishgard now, being what she was. A woman caught between two worlds – as she had always been – but now, finally, with the power to do something in both those worlds. _Not many bastards can say that, an' that's a fact_.

By the time she'd done with the infernal paperwork, seen the carter and his wife to their home, and trudged back to her own apartment, she was exhausted.

So exhausted that she almost didn't notice the figure standing in the hallway near her door.

“Glad I am that I had no other pressing business this evening.”

Hilda blinked twice, then grinned. “If I'd _known_ there was gonna be a storm, I'd have sent word to you, Ruhl.”

Ruby eyes met silvered sea-green, and the other woman smiled, showing a hint of fang.

“You look like a drowned rat.”

“Good thing for me you're a cat too fastidious to chase rodents, then.”

Y'Shtola pursed her lips. “Cheek like that is going to get you in trouble, young pup.”

Hilda snorted at that, and unlocked her door. “Are you coming in, or do you want to haunt me front step a while longer?”

Y'Shtola didn't answer that, just came inside. Hilda made sure the door locked, and then headed straight for her bathing-room, shedding her jacket as she went.

The sorceress followed after her, still silent; but no words were needed between them, not right now. Delicate hands helped Hilda out of her boots and the rest of her clothes – delicate hands that held firm to her when she wobbled on her feet.

Hilda clenched her jaw, feeling her body begin to shiver badly. _Got more chilled than I thought_.

Y'Shtola frowned, and then shed her own clothes – somehow doing so without letting go of the machinist for more than a second.

Hilda found herself in the shower, with the Miqo'te turning on the taps. The water was hot enough to make her hiss, but Y'Shtola wrapped her arms around the taller woman and held her steady under the spray as the water and the steam warmed her. Hilda put her own arms around the sorceress, accepting the support with quiet gratitude.

But as soon as she could stop shivering, the dark haired machinist let her hands start to roam.

Y'Shtola smiled.

They both got themselves washed and rinsed, moving slowly, letting fingers drag across sensitive places, but not yet doing more than teasing each other.

And all of it without saying a word, because neither woman saw any point in wasting their breath. Not when they both knew the score.

It wasn't until they were drying off that Y'Shtola spoke again.

“Granted that you were a bit _deluged_ by work,” her lips curved when Hilda barked a laugh at the word-play, “did you forget what day it is?”

The question made Hilda's smile fade. She toweled her hair more roughly. “No, I didn't forget.”

“You haven't made up your mind, then?”

“Haven't talked to Francel yet.”

Y'Shtola frowned, and Hilda tossed the towel into the hamper then held both her hands up. “I know, I know. But it ain't exactly the kind of thing you bring up over lunch, all right? He's been busier than me.” She ran her hand through dark hair still damp, and glanced over at the Miqo'te. “And I admit, I don't really wanna talk about it much tonight...not when you're already here, and lookin' all fetchin' like you do...”

White ears flicked back, then forward, and the sorceress laughed, low in her throat. “Is it to be flattery, now?”

“If it works...” Hilda smirked a little. But her ruby eyes traveled over the naked woman before her, as if she could caress that tanned skin with her gaze alone.

“Such admiring glances,” Y'Shtola murmured, coming close and taking Hilda's hands in her own. “How is it you pay such rich compliments without saying a word, hmm?”

Then she tugged Hilda towards the bed.

Once more they had no need of words. It had been this way since their first dalliance, almost two years ago now. The emotions between them, the sensations, required no discussion.

Hilda had no illusions – she was a playmate, a friend, but not a beloved. Y'Shtola did not allow herself such attachments, especially not after how she had been hurt at the hands of the Warrior of Light.

Hilda still wasn't certain just what Berylla had done to the white haired Miqo'te. All she knew for certain was that Y'Shtola had been looking for comfort, and that she had found that comfort in Hilda's bed for a time. There had been hints – comments that Berylla had never meant to harm anyone, that the Warrior was a well meaning idiot at times, that sort of thing.

In the end, it didn't really matter.

Hilda, for her own part, hadn't been looking for a beloved either. She had been glad of the company, happy to welcome such a beautiful woman into her bed, and had asked for no more than that. Her life had been spent in battle of one sort or another, for as long as she could remember. Y'Shtola did not need to explain her reasons for keeping a distance between them. Hilda would have maintained a distance of her own. It was not wise to allow people to get too close to her, for their own safety as much as hers.

And so their trysts went: infrequent nights of incandescent lovemaking, marked by the lack of conversation. Yet for all that, they had built a kind of trust between them, and that trust had prompted Hilda to make a rare request of Y'Shtola. A request that even now made her tingle all over with nervous anticipation – nervous, because she wasn't sure how Francel would react...

She put that thought out of her mind for the time being. For now, Shtola was warm and soft in her arms, flesh already quivering just slightly with need. Hilda aimed to stoke that hunger – and then to thoroughly satisfy them both. And after all, she did have excellent aim.

Hilda pressed slow kisses along Shtola's neck, while her fingers carded through the plush hair on her lover's head. When she found the gloriously soft fur of the ears, she rubbed at the base of each ear, and was rewarded by a low buzz of sound against her lips when Shtola purred.

The sorceress opened her legs and twined them around Hilda, pressing herself against the hard muscle of her thigh. The silken hair above her sex tickled a little, and Hilda smiled.

She shifted just slightly, bending her leg so that it made better contact with that hot, damp little sex, and delicately licked Shtola's skin just above her collarbone. The soft flesh trembled and flexed as the Miqo'te swallowed.

Then those delicate, strong hands were stroking Hilda's back, perfectly filed nails scratching gently. Hilda hummed and arched into the touch, and it was Shtola's turn to smile and chuckle a little. Hilda had always been a slut for back scratches, and she wasn't ashamed of it; she knew, too, that it was possible to get Shtola to make the same sorts of noises...

Her hands slipped down along velvety shoulders, and smooth rib-cage – the strong bones covered with enough flesh that some might think this woman soft. Hilda knew better. Of all the Scions, Y'Shtola was the hardest, the toughest, in most every way. She had survived the Lifestream, and Zenos, and gods only knew what other horrendous disasters she had endured recently. She had yet to speak to Hilda about what had really happened, while the Scions lay comatose for weeks. Berylla had tried to explain – but Berylla was not the best at such things.

Well, time enough for that later.

Hilda's hands reached lower, and cupped the generous swell of Shtola's rear. She pressed the Miqo'te closer, earning herself a small hiss of pleasure and a hint of wetness against her thigh. The back scratches intensified for a moment, and Hilda moaned against Shtola's shoulder. Then she lifted her left hand and gently grasped the base of her lover's tail. Not pulling, but rubbing with a sure and steady touch –

Y'Shtola made a sound that was most undignified – a low yowl, almost exactly like an alleycat in heat – and stiffened in Hilda's arms. Her nails bit into pale flesh, her legs clenched, and her sex gushed. Hilda lifted her head, smirking to see how she had affected her lover. Shtola's eyes flashed at her, her frown a mixture of indignation and desperate wanting.

Hilda claimed that frowning mouth in a hot kiss, and stimulated that special spot again. This time, when Shtola tensed, she slid her hand around and into a spot where she could reach that hungry sex that ground against her so sweetly. Shtola gasped as Hilda's thumb found her clitoris, and mewled in pure lust when the machinist started to rub the little pearl in time with Shtola's own hip movements.

For a few moments, Hilda let Shtola ride her, kissing her again and again while the Miqo'te chased her pleasure, grinding against thigh and thumb. She felt the tremble in her lover's limbs, and with a deft motion, stimulated the tail one more time.

Shtola came, mouth open, moaning, eyes squeezed shut, and Hilda sucked in air between her teeth, her own sex twitching in reaction.

But soon – much sooner than Hilda expected – the Miqo'te was attacking her with mouth and hands, pushing at her, turning the two of them over until Shtola knelt above the taller woman.

For all that she was surprised, though, Hilda knew what to do. She smiled as Shtola grasped her wrists and set them above her head, and clasped her fingers together. Her obedience earned her a hard, delicious kiss, made all the sweeter by the way Shtola was yet panting in the aftermath of her own orgasm.

Hilda half shut her eyes and let herself just enjoy the things Shtola was doing to her. This was something that always took place at least once during their trysts, and Hilda had a feeling that being in control was a very big deal for Shtola – though once more, they had never really talked about it. Still, it was quite the farthest thing from unpleasant to lie here, not using her hands for the moment, while the woman above her worked her will on tender flesh.

She arched her back a little as Shtola sucked hard on one of her nipples, a soft moan escaping her. Shtola hummed, pleased, and began to kiss and nip her way down Hilda's belly. Hilda's legs were open wide already, and she yelped quietly when Shtola nipped her inner thigh. When those hot lips and delicate fangs set against the tender skin just inches away from her sex, the machinist groaned and clenched her hands together. This was the hard part, because all she wanted in these moments was to bury her fingers in that snowy white hair and thrust her hips against that wonderful, wicked mouth – !

But Shtola would not be rushed.

Slowly, she nipped, and suckled, and bit. Hilda knew she'd have half a dozen marks on her thighs, after the way her lover feasted on her. Shtola knew exactly how far she could push Hilda – and took her right to that limit this time, nibbling and almost-licking the outer flesh, even teasing the hot ring of flesh beneath her sex while coyly avoiding the flesh that most wanted her touch.

Hilda whined and writhed, her heels digging into the mattress, nearly crying from the incredible, delicious frustration. Shtola looked up at her, silvered sea-green eyes framed by quaking thighs, and Hilda stared down at her lover, inarticulate moans tumbling from her lips as she begged shamelessly.

In these moments, Hilda found it astounding that she could still be just a little surprised by how _pink_ Shtola's tongue was, even as she shook like a leaf in pure anticipation of that velvety pink tongue finally delving into her.

And delve Shtola did, lapping at the inner flesh of Hilda's sex, then flickering across her now-swollen clitoris. Hilda's head tipped back, her eyes rolling, and she nearly shouted from the pleasure of it.

All that teasing had turned her entire sex into a ravenous thing, clamoring for more, _more,_ _ **more**_ – and Shtola always gave her more, and then more. Hilda groaned as she came the first time, grinding her hips down against tongue and teeth; she wailed the second time as delicate fingers pumped in and out of her sex, and again the third time. But when Shtola brought her off a fourth time, she could only whimper, body spasming, breathless and brokenly weeping.

After, Shtola was all softness, crawling back up to lie on the pillows beside Hilda, cradling her close, whispering praise and reassurance into dark hair. Hilda wrapped her arms around Shtola, snuggling in, letting herself shiver, savoring the echoes of the astonishing, glorious torment she had been given. Every worry she had, melted away in these moments. She could barely remember her name, much less spare a thought for anything at all but the next breath, the next aftershock of pleasure, and the warm woman in her arms.

And this bliss, this exhausted numbness of mind, was what she hoped to show Francel.

These dalliances with Shtola weren't hardly on a schedule, but when they did happen, Hilda felt better for weeks after. She couldn't imagine how much good it would do Francel to be rendered incapable of worrying for a few hours. The man was like to break if he didn't stop working so damned hard... and she did not want him to break.

She'd at least managed to get him to agree to spend the night with her, two days from now. She'd had to make it look like it wasn't a date, or she would have set it for tomorrow – but having him stay the night for Valentione's was just too damned obvious.

She stirred, and looked up at Shtola. “I know we don't usually talk much,” she murmured.

“But you are worried about your friend.”

Hilda sighed, and traced an old scar on the Miqo'te's upper arm. “He means a lot t'me, Shtola.”

“Why is it that you think I can help him?”

Hilda bit her lip. “Maybe it sounds strange. But I think that between you an' me, we can help him heal some old pain.” Her lips quirked, then. “And if nothin' else, we can surely drive him to getting' a real night's rest for once.”

“Yet you haven't spoken to him.”

“Told ya, he's busy. And,” Hilda scraped her hair out of her eyes, “I did talk to him about it, kind of feelin' him out – but that was weeks ago now.”

“Do you have your other – hm, arrangements shall we say – already taken care of, at least?”

“Yeah. An' thanks, by the way. Strawberries are damned expensive here, yet.”

Shtola laughed quietly. “You are quite welcome.” Then her eyes fixed on Hilda's. “I feel I must ask this question of you, and I beg you, be honest in your answer.”

“What?”

“Do you love him?”

Hilda swallowed hard. “I – ” She shut her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “I don't rightly know, and that's the truth. I care about Francel more'n I should, more'n anybody else in this city. But I sure as hells don't know what we could have together. Like a fish an' a bird tryin' to romance each other, we are.”

“And should you discover that he does not return your feelings?”

“Why should he? He's a noble, ain't he? And he don't owe me nothin' just as I don't owe him nothin'. I can't even make up my mind how I feel, how the hells am I s'posed to expect more of him?”

“That doesn't answer my question, my dear.”

Hilda bent her head and snuggled in close, almost hiding against the smaller woman. “I ain't gonna say it would break my heart. Everyone knows the Mongrel Bitch ain't got a heart to break.” But even though her words were muffled against Shtola's skin, the sorceress heard the tears hiding beneath the bluster.

She held her lover closer and let the matter drop. She knew the pain hovering beneath those words. “A fish and a bird,” indeed. She closed her eyes, recalling the one who had cared for her so much – the one she likely would never see again, barring some kind of miracle... Her arms tightened around Hilda's shoulders.

“I shall help you, and I shall do my best for your friend as well.”

**Author's Note:**

> So for those who want to know just what DID Berylla do to Y'shtola:
> 
> The short answer is, she accidentally hurt her during aether sex; in my main fic works, that has yet to be fully resolved. The slightly longer answer is that Berylla attempted to augment sex with aether linking, went too far because she didn't know what the hell she was doing (and was drunk to boot), and as a result Y'shtola was temporarily afflicted with a kind of addiction to Berylla. Not quite tempering, but definitely an uncomfortable situation for Y'shtola. Berylla meanwhile had No Idea that anything was wrong, because Berylla is a walking disaster when it comes to relationships. Hilda was one source of comfort for Y'shtola while recovering from that.


End file.
